


Nuria

by Mykki



Series: Nuria [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Additional tags added later, Best Friends, Difficult Decisions, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Friendship, Multi, Other, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-01
Updated: 2015-05-01
Packaged: 2018-03-26 17:05:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 9
Words: 17,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3858289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mykki/pseuds/Mykki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Octavian is the only daughter of Bann Trevelyan, and a mage. She was sent to the circles at the age of eight. At the age of 21 not only is she chosen as the youngest Senior Enchanter she is also sent to Ferelden as a healer for the Armies the Gray Wardens had massed together to battle the Blight. This is the story of my Inquisitor and how she came to that role.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>This is my first Fan-fic. I loved the entire Dragon Age series, but decided I wanted an older Inquisitor that had more world experience then what she has at the beginning of Inquisitions. This is what I’ve come up with. </p>
<p>There will be multiple relationships with my Inquisitor through out this story and it stretches from the ‘beginning’ starting with Origins, there will be a section that has been completely made up by me, with some knowledge that was acquired from characters later on, but I felt fit with what happens. After that it works it’s way through Dragon Age 2 before going into Inquisitions. </p>
<p>Comments and suggestions are always welcome. Please let me know what you think</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Matrinalis 9:30**

 

Senior Enchanter, Octavian Lucille Trevelyan, pulled up her horse and gazed out at the mass of tents spread out in every direction. She felt a touch of fear and horror as she tried to calculate how many people had gathered on the outskirts of Redcliffe, waiting for the invading horde about to descend on them. Octavian felt a sense of inadequacy roll of her. She might have been chosen for this position, but that did not mean Tavin felt she was good enough to fill the roll. After all she was the youngest Senior Enchanter ever chosen in her circle and the newest confirmed, having on been confirmed a few months ago. Her first major decision, in fact, had been helping to decide who to send here. All though she conceded that no one else in her Circle could do as the request asked. It being a small Circle, she had put forth her own name, fully expecting to be rejected. Great was her fear – and joy – when she had been accepted. Octavian swallowed and gazed out over the encampment again, before turning to her guide, a templar sent to escort her here. She could tell by his expression that he didn’t think she should be here, and she wondered what he would do if she voiced her agreement out load. She turned her horse and followed the templar down the incline towards the stabling area for the horses. Octavian mentally frowned to herself when she looked at her skirts and then at all the mud surrounding the area. She was dressed completely inappropriately, and felt the eyes of many men on her making her feel vulnerable. She decided that as soon as the opportunity rose, she was going to change out of the ivory and royal blue ensemble she was currently wearing. She grit her teeth and attempted to swung a leg over the horses back when they stopped at the bottom. She miscalculated though, or the horse she had been given was out to get her. It didn’t matter which way it was. As soon as she was about to put her foot down, she stumbled, making the mare shy away. The result was typical, she fell the rest of the way to land in the mud and muck, and only the Maker knew what else. Tears of humiliation stung her eyes. The desire to brush them away burned, as the snickers of laughter met her ears. Pride made her refuse, to brush them away. Tavin tried to stand instead, but found she couldn’t as the mud like glue held her in its grip. She realized she would have to ask for help when to her horror she saw boots appear in front of her. Ducking her head she waited for the ridicule that never came, confused she glanced up and meet the hazel colored eyes of an attractive young man with reddish blond hair.

He leaned over her and spoke. “Are you ok?”

Octavian nodded, face burning, mentally she cursed her fair skin for it made the flush more pronounced.

The young man bent over to help her stand, when he froze a voice drift out behind him.

“What did you find, Your Majesty?”

He ignored the voice and helped the young women stand. When she stumbled unable to find purchases in the mud, he swung her into his arms, ignoring her protest, he glance at the voice that had spoken earlier. “I’ve asked you not to call me the Zev, it hasn’t happened yet.”

The _voice_ called Zev laughed, “I know, but it is such fun tweaking your nose…”

The man holding her grunted, “Go find Leliana. Order warm water and food for the lady mage before she meets Oliver.” Zev smiled and saluted before disappearing into the roll mass of bodies.

“Are you really a “Your Majesty”? The women in his arms asked.

He looked down at her as he moved in the opposite direction the other man had taken. “I am Alistair, newly chosen to be the next king, _if_ we can end this blight. I assume you are Lady Octavian Trevelyan, newly confirmed Senior Enchanter, sent here as a healer.”

She nodded with a grimace.

Alistair was unsure if that was because of his introduction or a reaction to her title. He decided to ignore it. “Leliana will help you find something else to wear as your clothing has not arrived, and then you can meet Oliver.”

Octavian smiled shyly, “Thank-you for being so kind.”

Alistair smiled back and glanced into her green eyes again before lowering his voice, “Not a problem.” Nothing more as he made his way to the center of camp. Once there, he carefully lowered her legs and let her lean on him a moment while she found her balance. As he held her up right Alistair pointed out who’s tent was whose. The tents sat in a circle around a large camp fire. The one in the middle was Oliver’s, to the right was his, and then Sten’s (who was a Qunari) to the left was Zevran’s (an elven rogue) and Wynne’s (a human spirit healer), Morrigan’s (an apostate mage) was beside theirs and this one completed the circle was Leliana’s (a Bard). Alistair mentioned that she might see a Mabari wondering around, which was called Dog.

A slightly accented voice called out from behind them and they turned. Octavian watched as a svelte young woman entered the area. Her short red hair glinted in the sun and green eyes shone with amusement. “Zevran said you needed me?”

Alistair coughed, “Yes, Leliana. This is Senior Enchanter, Octavian of Ostwick Circle; could you help get her settled and then bring her to meet Oliver?”

Leliana nodded a smile curving her lips, she walked forward and opened a flap of her tent and gestured for the Senior Enchanter to enter.

Stepping inside the tent Octavian looked around, cot, chair, table, trunk, made up most of the items on the floor, a few rugs were scattered too soften the stark effect. A small brazier completed the furnishings. On the table sat an inviting bowl of steaming water. Neatly set beside it was a wash clothe, soap, and towel. There was a pate of something edible, but the need to clean herself drowned out the need for food.

Leliana walked to the trunk. Kneeling she dug around for some clothing. “I assume your trunks haven’t arrived, so here.” She tossed some clothing on the chair. “Wash, eat and dress. I’ll wait outside for you.” Leliana left leaving Octavian standing there. As soon as the flap fell into place Octavian flew into action. Ripping of her own soil clothing she grabbed a cloth. Angrily berated herself, had thought she was long past the point where she was consider herself stupid and naïve, know she truly knew she was. She still felt cold and humiliated by her entry into the camp, and dreaded what they would say to this “Oliver” person. Worst of all was being carried through camp in the arms of the king. If Octavian had time, she felt she could have wept bitterly and hopelessly at the situation she was in. She dared not. She was a Senior Enchanter. If she fell apart now, everyone one would become disillusioned by the Circles. It was something that could have dire consequences, and she didn’t dare contemplate what those might be. Cleaning herself the best could while trying to tidy her hair with no brush was not easy. She sat and tried to eat, but only managed a few mouthfuls before she shot to her feet again. If she ate now she would get sick and with the way her luck was running it would be on this Oliver’s feet. Octavian brushed her hands over the leather tunic and pants, patted her hair. Putting on an air of confidence she didn’t feel she swept back the ‘door’ and walked into the area by the fire pit. It took her a few seconds for her eyes to adjust to the light difference. When they finally did adjust she found herself looking at a female with the strangest yellow eyes she had ever seen on a human, they looked like eyes that should belong to a cat. As those same eyes narrowed on her, Octavian held her breath nerves tightening against her will. They continue stare at each other. The silence unnerved Octavian as much as the eyes.

“I know you.” The women’s voice was cool, almost indifferent to the statement.

Octavian shook her head and started to back up and would have hit the tent if a strong arm hadn’t reached out and halted her. She turned and found herself looking at the same hazel eyes from earlier. _Maker perverse me, I have no luck_. She heard a disgusted snort behind her and flinched at the cold that creep into the hazel eyes, Octavian swore she heard Alistair mumble “…spiteful witch…” but couldn’t be sure. His eyes snapped back to hers filling with a warmth that shocked her to her toes. Alistair held out an arm, “Shall we?” Not knowing what else to do, she took the proffered limb and found herself being left across the small area.

“What happened to Leliana?” She asked.

He shrugged and was quiet. He stopped at the tent that he had indicated that belonged to Oliver and held open the flap for her to enter. Octavian did ducking her head she entered and stopped as she realized there was a couple caught in a passionate embrace. She felt herself redden in embracement. Behind her, she heard Alistair give an exaggerated cough and she could have elbowed him if she didn’t think it would have hurt her elbow more. The women untangled herself from the sitting man and stood behind him smiling, Octavian realized the women was in fact Leliana. Stupidified she watched the man rise and walked towards her holding out his hand. She grasped it belatedly. To her chagrin she realized she’d missed the question he’d asked, and judging by Leliana and the man’s expression they realized it as well. Octavian desperately wanted a giant hole to swallow her, but knew this thought was in vain. Octavian tried her best to salvage the situation before they sent her back home in disgrace.

“I’m sorry. I’m tired and this is all very new to me. I’ve never been around this many non-mages before…” Octavian trailed off slightly cursing herself but they seemed to take pity on her.

The man spoke blue eyes sparkling, gesturing for her to sit. “Relax, Senior Enchanter…”

She broke him off, “Please just Octavian or even Tavin… I haven’t had the other title for long and I don’t know if I will respond to it when needed.”

The man nodded, “Ok, Octavian my name is Oliver Cousland and one of the Gray Wardens.” He laughed slightly and jerked his thumb at Alistair, “even though they named him king, I am the one who gets to plan the battle and the next steps we take.” Octavian nodded so he continued, “As you know I sent out a request to all the circles that they send help. I received a briefing on you but not as detailed as I would have liked, so could you please explain what you can and can’t do.”

Octavian looked at the three occupants of the tent and nodded. “I am a healer. I do primarily healing with magic, but am able to use herbs or even the more basic methods of stitching if that is all that is required, or I don’t have the Mana to do it otherwise. I have study extensively and know the geography of Thedas. I can also give you an idea of what all the conditions ‘should’ be in any given area, during any season. I can also speak and read all the major languages in Thedas, and most of the minor as well.” She watched Oliver’s brows rise at that last statement and turned to Alistair who disappeared. She watched as Leliana walk over to a desk and write something on a piece of paper and hand it to her, Octavian read the words on the paper, and blushed clear to her toes. To her further embarrassment Tavin realized that he been Leliana’s intent as the other women’s chuckle filled the air, causing the blush already on her face flame to scarlet. Octavian had no time to reply though as Alistair came back leading another man.

Oliver spoke gesturing to the new man “This is Sten, a Qunari who joined our cause a while back.”

Octavian realized this was another test of her boast, and rose, “Kost, Why Sten?? That is not your name.”

The other’s look at each other in confusion, and look between ‘Sten’ and Octavian, who took pity on them. “Sten isn’t a name; it is a title or rank.” Octavian shrugged, “I guess it would be commander of the Infantry Platoon.” The three other’s looked to Sten. As one they dropped their gaze to the floor as smiled, bowed formally “Panahedan”. Still smiling he turned and exited the tent, leaving them stunned.

Octavian watched him leave and turned to face Oliver and the other two.

Oliver looked her over thinking hard “Do you have any form of combat magic?”            Tavin bit her lip and shook her head. “No, when it proved I was unable to do anything but healing, I was sent to the library during those lessons. It was how I came to be so good at languages.”

Oliver nodded as if he expected as much. He glanced at Alistair, “Get Zev”. Abruptly he turned to Leliana trying to breaking of the storm he expected from her before it could begin, “Sorry Lana, Zev is better then you at close corridors, and as a trained assassin he can teach her fast how to stay alive.” Realizing he might have hurt Leliana’s feelings, Oliver attempted to placate her. He gazed at her with a dazzling smile, “Besides you know you are better with a bow then daggers.”

Leliana glared at him a moment before she relented.

He a seductive grin flashed across his face as he whispered, “Plus you won’t want to come to bed sore, would you?”

Leliana laughed out loud.

Oliver turned back and found himself facing stormy green eyes, and sighed mentally. “You do realize I am a mage, and am not allowed to learn weapons work. So why must I learn and be taught by an assassin?” Octavian demanded, and immediately felt ashamed; she could her Mentor Kiera echo in her head _“No learning is ever wasted”_

Oliver ignored her tone possibly because he could read the regret and shame in her eyes and spoke bluntly, “I know that, however you are a young attractive female in a camp full of men, some of those same men have not seen or been with a women in months if not years. You have also stated that you have not interacted with anything other then mages or templar’s for most of your life. You have no defensive magics’ so how do you expect to protect yourself if the worst should happen?” Octavian blinked at him, obviously not understanding, this time he did sigh, “What happens if a Templar goes rogue and decides you are an abomination that needs to be eliminated. Or he just decides he wants to have your _charms_? What will you do _if_ silences you? Hell, it doesn’t even need to be a Templar, there are plenty of regular troops available too.”

Octavian paled at his words, and the implications he implied but never said. She knew what would happen. It had happened twice before, even before she made Junior Enchanter. She had been the one who had been called in to heal the damage. The templar in question had been reassigned else where.

Oliver caught her eyes and held her gaze for a long moment. When he was sure she would no longer argue, he continued. “I would like you to work with the other mage-healers we have. You will be the direct connect with them, as you are the most senior rank that’s gift is primary healing. Also determine what we have or need for herbs. When scouting parties are sent out I would like them to have as much detail as possible of what thing we need. If you can’t draw it, Alistair can find someone for you. If you are curious Senior Enchanter, Elena from the Circle Cumberland in Nevarra, is coordinating the offensives. It wouldn’t hurt for you to learn about them. I would also like you to attend some meetings in the near future. Some of these nobles speak in front of me in there own tongue and I don’t always catch what they are saying. It…” Oliver broke of as if trying to find a delicate way of expressing himself. He ran a hand up the back of his head sending his black hair into disarray. Unable to come up with anything else he stated badly. “It has caused problems, hurt feelings or just plain anger. I want – _need_ – to keep things as seamless and calm as possible. It was a lesson I never understood when I was younger or how important it was.” Oliver paused, waiting for her to acknowledge she understood. Once the Senior Enchanter nodded, he continued, his voice brisk and business like. “I would also like you to listen to the camp gossip. I know you’ll hear much in the infirmary. If at all possible try not to let it be known how many and much of the languages you can understand. It would be even better if you can pretend you only understand a few words at most. Do you think you can do all that?”

Octavian thought hard for a minute before nodding.

A shadow on the tent wall caught Oliver’s attention a moment before tat shadow slipped silently into the tent, _“It figures”_ Oliver grinned to himself, _“He still slips around like an apparition”_

The elf slipped into the tent, Alistair followed behind him. The elf smiled in pleasant surprise. The Enchanter was shorter then he was, and he was short himself. All elves where short and Zevran was typical of his race. His head just came up to Oliver’s shoulder. Octavian came up to his chin. As unfair as it might be, Zev was please – gleefully so – he was no longer the shortest member of this exclusive group.

“Good, here is Zevran. Octavian, you guys can formally or informally introduce yourselves later. I would like you to train her as quickly as possible using daggers. She needs to be able to protect herself. The sooner, the better.”

Zevran looked over the young women shrewdly, “Are you comfortable wearing leathers or do you need to change back to mage robes?”

Octavian started. She never really thought of it as an option, “I can stay in the leathers.”

Zevran smiled “Good, first lesson, hide in plain sight.”

Octavian thought a moment more, remembering Oliver’s warning, she nodded.

Oliver looked satisfied, “Alistair I need you to for a moment longer. Zev, shadow and train her until further notice. Lana show her around and get her settled in your tent.”

Octavian looked baffled as Alistair frowned. Smirking, Leliana grabbed her arm and dragged her out of the tent with Zevran shadowing her.


	2. Chapter 2

**First of Parvulis 9:30**

 

Brown eyes devoid of any feeling glinted from across the triangle of bare ground being used for practicing. Eyes half hidden by the black half-mask he wore to keep the hair out of his eyes. Zevran watched and waited for the Senior Enchanter to make the first move.

Octavian was wearing something similar, but her hair was tucked down the back of her skirt just incase. Octavian tried reading Zevran’s brown eyes staring at her and failed. They moved to the right and she moved to counter him and found him, where she was going. Binding their blades they spun and managed to lock blades. Bringing up a foot he kicked her right in the stomach. Her breath ‘slammed’ out of her as she staggered back. Zevran grabbed her wrist and flipped her over his head. Pulling a hidden dagger and the elf held it to her throat while she gasped and wheezed, desperately trying to get breath into her lungs.

He continued to regard her dispassionately, “You lose” he intoned his voice flat and expressionless as his eyes. “Again” He pulled her to her feet as he spoke. Octavian didn’t even try arguing, she had once. The results had not been pretty. She had ended up with a broken nose and cracked ribs. Octavian had learned her lesson, clenching her teeth least she say something, Tavin moved back to her side of the triangle while she tried to regain her breath, knowing he was watching even now. She crouched down low watching him her mouth dried as she waited for an attack. An attack that never came. Her nerves stretched to the screaming point, still she waited. Octavian ran the days of sparring through her mind. Her eyes widened. Always. Always Zevran attacked, giving him the advantage. Tavin was determined to have the advantaged this time. She crouched a bit lower, and feinted to the right, but swiped to the left, hoping to catch him unawares. To her dismay, the elf glided effortlessly back, evading her easily. Far to easily. It made her feel like the amateur she was. She held back her anger. Octavian knew that while anger can help, as it increases both strength and speed. Too much anger can impeded her movements. Octavian rushed forward, bringing her right arm up, blocking the blow, while she stretched out her foot, hoping to trip him. It failed. As she brought her weapon around, he skipped back, a mocking smile on his face. As the elf moved, Octavian saw her change. She blocked a flurry of blows, then spun _towards_ him, as he had been trying to get her to do. Octavian grabbed his left arm, and twisted it behind him while she held a dirk to his throat. Pulling him back, she pinned him to her chest.

Zevran chuckled low and deep.

To Octavian’s surprise, she could _feel_ the chuckle vibrate through her bones. Her breathing was harsh and labored, making it coarser than normal. “You lo…” She never got the change to finish. Octavian found herself flipped of her feet, over Zevran and landed hard on her back. Again, the air was knocked out of her. To her dismay, Zev had a knee on her chest, and both of his daggers crossed against her throat.

“No, Falon, you do…” Zevran looked at her over the half mask with a smile. With an abrupt movement, he sheath his weapons and rose to his feet. Grapping the arm she raised, Zevran pulled her effortless to her feet. “That was much better.”

Any anger Octavian felt evaporated, both at the words, and the warm one armed hug he gave her. In disbelief, she started at him with large green eyes, Tavin could not help but ask, “Honestly?”

            “Go, I think His Highness waiting.” Zevran nodded, smiling when she blushed before taking off. He watched till she was out of sight. There was an odd ache in his chest. He shook his head and suppressed it. As the elf turned to go clean himself up and find some food, he couldn’t help but pause and look in the direction she had gone.

 

****

 

As Octavian headed to clean up and the find Alistair she thought over the training sessions she had with Zevran. She could admit now after a month of the intensive training she was going through, she was grateful for it. Tavin had never realized how much the Circle kept mages a prisoner inside their cages. Zevran wasn’t just teaching how to use daggers either. He was teaching the use of bow, hand to hand combat, how to track, hide in the shadows, how to hide in plain sight and a number of other things she was finding useful. They had also developed a bond over herbs, and had taught each other different recipes. Some she had found in her researches, and ones he had learned through other people or while working for The Crows. Tavin genuinely felt comfortable around Zevran. He never ridiculed her, while encouraging her progress.

As the Senior Enchanter moved between tents and fire pits, she thought of the others working directly with Warden Oliver. Sten was reserved, but he seemed to like speaking with her and was trying to understand the differences between their cultures. He was most interested in the differences between magic users. Sten had just finished explaining to her what are the horrors / honors (she couldn’t really decide) of mages in his culture and it had actually given her a very healthy respect for the Circles. The circles here pretended to have an appearance of freedom, however on the whole she felt that death would be better then the Rite of Tranquility.

Octavian had worked with Wynne and they had taught each other new spells. By working together, they had learned to respect the boundaries of belief. Wynne believed in the Circles, while Octavian was still divided. Octavian didn’t want power, but the ‘freedom’ of being here in the camp for the last month had opened her eyes to the oppression of mages in general.

Morrigan was still a mystery to her. Octavian had tried talking to Morrigan a couple of times wanting to know what it was like to be classified as an apostate. She also wanted to know if the abilities Morrigan had could be taught. However the Morrigan would only stare at her then wander away. Now the women just avoided her. Octavian was slightly bothered by it, but she never said anything. She knew Morrigan watched her whenever she was in camp and it was unnerving but she wouldn’t force the women to speak.

Octavian shoved aside all uncomfortable thoughts as she entered the Healers tent. They seemed to know when something weighted heavily on anyone’s mind. Hers included. Octavian didn’t want anyone privy to her thoughts, so she pushed them all aside. Octavian only wanted to see if there where any messages, or urgent cases that had come up. She left disappointed that there were no messages, and relieved there was none who needed her set of skills. As soon as she left, her thoughts returned and followed her all the way to her tent.

Leliana was the best-friend she never had growing up, and never felt the need of having inside the Circle. Finding friends in the Circle proved to be to painful, so she keep to herself, did her lesson and listened when Kiera spoke. Tavin found that when Leliana was in camp, they would sit around the campfire and just talk. Talk that was sometimes overcome with laughter. Leliana shared songs she had learned over her travels, and some of the histories that went with the songs. The Bard had even attempted to teach her to play the panpipes as being the ‘easiest’ instrument, it had unfortunately been a disaster. Dog had sent up barking causing some of the other Mabari war hounds to start. Everyone begged them to stop. They had complied, falling into a fit of laughter that caused the other companions to throw up there hands and leave them be.

            Octavian could understand why Warden Oliver had been picked to lead the encampment, even though Alistair was named king. She felt an honest affection for Oliver that was born of his ability to lead. He could be funny, and commanding, at the same time. He would ask you to do something and more often then not you found yourself agreeing with whatever it was he had asked. There where times when she found it impossible that the Warden had managed to pull of everything he had done to get them all to this point. Now it was just a waiting game now. Waiting for the rest of the help to arrive before pushing to the final battle.

            As for Alistair, she was unsure what to do. She felt herself blushing, when he was around or even if he just looked at her. Octavian knew she was attracted to him. There were a few problems though. She didn’t know how he felt. He always treated her with respect and never gave her cause to doubt him. Even when she found out he was an Ex-templar. Normally that type of relationship was strictly forbidden, but no one here seemed to care. Which might be all a result of the situation they were in, she knew some of the people she had meet here, may _not_ be here when it finally ended.

Octavian sighed heavily as she broke through the last line of tents to Dog’s excited barking. She paused beside him where he laid near the fire pit and patted his head before she turned and headed to her tent shared with Leliana (even if Leliana didn’t sleep there). She pushed open the flap and stared. The table was set with food and drink and there where two steaming buckets of water waiting for her at the foot of her bed. She realized then it had to be Alistair, as Leliana was out for the rest of the week with Oliver, Morrigan, and Sten. Flushing over what the implication might mean, she still took advantage of the hot water. She laced up the ‘door’ and stripe. She washed the dust and grim from her body, taking fiendish delight in being _clean_. Taking down her hair she brushed it with some of the water regretting the fact there wasn’t enough to wash it properly. After all, the only other option was the ice cold stream. She re-braided her hair and took out clean clothing laying out her daggers and sheaths on the bed. She strapped sheaths on her forearm and around her the small of her back, then she put on a breast band making sure both where comfortable. Next came small clothes and stockings. Then she pulled on the black leather pants and a white lace-up shirt. The shirt cuffed at the elbows and again at the wrist, but it had a clever slit on the underside to reach a dagger if she needed too. She inserted dirks on both wrist, and through the slit in the back of the shirt to the other hidden sheaths. The front stopping about three quarters of the way. She strapped sheaths to her thighs and inserted daggers to those and then pulled on her boots. They stopped at the knees and had had hidden daggers on either side of each leg. Wrapping the baldric around her waist, she inserted her daggers at her hips. She pulled on the black leather jacket last, she pulled the buckles at the waist, and linked them on the inside to keep it open as it was a warm day. Preparations done, Octavian finally felt presentable. As always after sparring with Zevran, she was famished. Sitting down, she inhaled her mid-day meal. Going over her afternoon plan in her mind, deciding it might be better to talk it over with Alistair first, she finished eating. Rising to her feet she grabbed her bag and settled it more comfortably at her hip. Unlacing the tent doors, she deposited the buckets outside, then straightened and paused for several moments, letting her eyes adjust to the brightness. Dog walked up to her and bunted her hand and whined and she looked at him before petting him, causing him to wag his tail.

“Would you like to come?” She smiled at the Mabari and he barked in response. She moved quickly through the camp with Dog at her side. She no longer felt self-conscious at _not_ dressing like a mage. It felt comfortable to her. She never even brought her staff with her anymore. She only used it when she needed it to boast her healing, or Zevran wanted to train her with something other then daggers. Most of the staff work she did know was self taught, as the Circle did not teach staff work. The soldiers mostly ignored her going on about their duties. Some of the soldiers she recognized, and a few waved at her, a wave she returned with a smile.

Octavian arrived at the stabling area and found Alistair waiting with the horses saddled. He watched her approach, a warmth in his eyes, that sent an answering warmth spreading through her. As she reached him, he smiled at her and asked “Why are we going into town?” She glanced at him and greeted her horse, offering the mare a cube of sugar. She caught the reins of the mare and followed Alistair out.

“I noticed within the first week of being here that some of the herbs coming in from traders appeared to be bad. The herbs are being packed into crates with much care but I noticed that the top layer or two seem to be mixed herbs and it disturbed me as some the them when mixed can be extremely dangerous, it looks as if someone is deliberately tampering with the crates.” Octavian lifted a slender hand, cutting Alistair off before he could say anything. “I took my concerns to Oliver and he told me to investigate it. I found out that the deliveries are brought here the day after the traders leave Redcliffe and it’s always the same two traders.” She paused speaking and allowed a group of soldiers to pass before she continued. “Litton Jegou who is from Orlais speaks very little common tongue but reports indicate that he genuinely cares about his business and the idea that he is deliberately doing this doesn’t fit. The other trader that comes the same day is Agustin Barton from Nevarra. He seems very boastful and brash. There have also been rumors that the potions made from herbs at his booth have caused more damage than good.” Once at the outer ring of the camp they paused waiting for Dog to catch up.

“So you want to check them both out first before doing anything else?” Alistair spoke, and felt rewarded when Octavian smiled with a nod. “I’ll follow your lead. I’m just the muscle if you need to scare someone.” Grinning he swung up into the saddle with a shiver as Octavian’s husky chuckle crawled up his spine. He turned and watched as she swung up admiring her a moment, before turning and leading the way to Redcliffe.

 

****

 

After enjoying the short ride along side the river, they rode into Redcliffe early afternoon. They stabled their horses at the inn after confirming with the innkeeper that traders had arrived. They moved through the crowds, the Mabari walking beside Octavian creating a path for her, Alistair slightly behind them both.

Octavian stopped at Litton Jegou’s booth first and was greatly impressed with what she found. All the herbs where carefully labeled and arranged in trays or hung neatly from a string running the length of the booth. Octavian spoke with the man in trade tongue, rather then letting him know she could speak his language as well as he could. Octavian bought a few different herbs that she didn’t have and placed the wrapped products in her bag. She thanked the man and left, moving through the growing crowd until she arrived at Agustin Barton’s booth. She physically recoiled at the sight. The tent was dirty looking and the herbs where just thrown together on the table. She didn’t say anything. Just viewed a few things on the table, and listening to the people talking there before leaving. Tavin led Alistair out of the crowd and on the way back to the inn, she turned to him with a frown on her face. “Where is the warehouse, and do we need permission to get in?”

Alistair thought a moment, “Let’s speak with the captain station here first. You can explain the issue and see what he suggests.” Turning he headed to a stone structure at the entrance to the town.

A man sitting behind a desk, stood at there entrance and saluted smartly, “Warden Alistair, Lieutenant Trent aide to Captain Ryan. How may I be of service?”

Alistair waved aside the salute, but smiled at the man. “Is Captain Ryan available? My colleague has personal business with him.”

“I’m sorry, Warden. The captain is currently with someone. But if you wish to wait there are benches there.” Lieutenant Trent pointed to benches across from him. Not overly happy, but not having much choice in the matter, they complied. Dog sitting at Octavian’s feet as she looked around fascinated. The room was large, there were four stone posts set at intervals through out the open space. Lanterns hanging from them. Flanking each post set two desk in an L-shape. Each of the desk had trays for papers, quills and inkpots. A chair was sitting in the middle of the L-shape desk, with two chairs on the other side. She could see soldiers on one side of the desk and civilians on the other, in some cases it was soldiers, but for the most part it seemed this was where the civilians of Redcliffe came for military assistance. There were civilians sitting on benches beside the door they had entered waiting there turn. Windows covering the wall letting in plenty of light. Octavian noticed some people were weeping, other’s looked anxious, or some resigned but none looked angry. There where three doors on the wall opposite where they had entered, and she assumed at least one led to the Captains room, the others she wasn’t sure of. There was a large fireplace taking up the wall at the end of the building. She hadn’t sat very long enough to absorb everything when the door beside them opened and a man step out.

He was older man, graying at the temples, with lines set heavily on his face. The muscles under his shirt showed that he was fit though. The sword that hung at his side like it was part of him. He spoke gently and kindly to the elder lady accompanying him out of the room. “My Lady, he was of great service in this fight, and he will be sorely missed. If you need any help, please let my Lieutenant know.” She nodded and a younger women helped her leave the building. Regret flashed across his face before he masked it and turned to them. “Warden Alistair?” Surprise flared in his eyes before his gazed landed on the women who stood beside Alistair.

“Captain, please may we speak privately?” Alistair spoke glancing at Octavian. She nodded allowing him to continue. The captain turned and allowed them to precede him into his office and closed the door. “Captain Ryan, this is Senior Enchanter Octavian of Ostwick Circle. She is our most primary healer stationed within the army and has been dealing with a matter that we may need your help with.”

Captain Ryan bowed formally, “How can I help, My Lady?” He gestured to a circle of chairs set by the fireplace, willingly they sat as Dog laid between them. The captain offered them a drink which they declined.

Octavian waited for the captain to seat himself before she briefly outlined what she had learned both before and today explaining her suspicions of the Trader Agustin Barton. “What I need is access to the Delivery Manifest. I think he is arriving after the other trader and is tampering with Jegou’s delivery. As for why he is doing this, I don’t know. I also don’t know if he is having help. I would like to believe that not one of the guard would do such a thing. I would think that the warehouse would be guarded…” She trailed off as Captain Ryan run a hand across his face and frown.

“As much as I would like to say it is guarded, My Lady. I have to say it is not, or at least it is not during the day. We have people moving in and out of the area all day so never thought it needed to be guarded.” He shrugged. “This apparently was the wrong assumption. All I can do is apologize.” He studied Octavian intently, “I can get you the Manifest and we can station a guard immediately though.”

“Actually, Captain, I think it would be best to not place a guard just yet.” Octavian spoke causing both men to start in surprise, she held up a hand to continue speaking. “Listen, I think it would be better to place discreet watchers the next time and catch him red handed, so to speak. I can look over the Manifest for the last three months as that is how long Trader Litton Jegou has been coming here. The shipment that came in today has to be checked as well.” The men contemplated her words before nodding in agreement. “Once we have all the information we need we can approach Warden Oliver and allow him to deal with this.”

“Good enough,” The Captain readily agreed. When nothing more was said, he looked from Alistair to The Senior Enchanter, and back again. “It that all?” At their nod, he rose and moved to his desk. Leaning over it and quickly wrote something out on a piece of paper, he moved to the door and opened it “Lieutenant.” Ryan called as soon as he opened the door. Waiting till the Lieutenant approached him, “Here, get this delivered to Dalton, and the get a small group of four soldiers together. Meet us at the warehouse.” The Lieutenant blinked but complied. Passing the information to a runner outside the door, before disappearing supposedly to gather the men as asked. Captain Ryan gestured for Octavian and Alistair to follow him. Closing the office door behind them, he locked it, then led them through the complex to the warehouse situated behind the office building. They arrived shortly before the others. Turning to his men, the captain introduced Octavian as the Senior Enchanter, “She will explain what you are doing and why.”

Octavian swallowed nervously but meet the eyes of each of the men, “I need to find Trader Litton Jegou shipments and those Trader Agustin Barton. I need a place to check each of the crates and make notes.” She paused as another man entered and was followed by two more men carrying boxes full of papers.

The Captain took over, and introduced the new man. “This man is Dalton Porter, he is not of military rank, but he has run this warehouse for years, even before we got stationed here.” Octavian could believe it. Watching Dalton Porter, he was old and he moved slowly and carefully as if each step was an effort. He walked hunched over, leaning on his cane. Tavin could see the intelligence in his eyes, and the burning desire to help in some small way. Octavian felt the strain he was under, she moved quickly and took his hand making it appear she was shaking it. Once touching him, she was able to open a channel by touching him and sent in a burst of healing. She could sense the strain of age, but there was something else she couldn’t pinpoint. She noticed the little she had managed to give proved effective. Dalton stood slightly straighter, a grateful smile curving his lips.     

Dalton spoke carefully and slowly as if to make sure everyone understood his words. “My Lady, I have the Manifest for the last three months. I can arrange everything for you to pursue after you have completed this other task. The traders crates are stored to the left side near the exit.” He squinted at her with blurry eyes, “As you suspect, Trader Jegou’s are there first, followed by Trader Barton.”

“Come, good sir” Octavian let go of his hand but took his arm and led him gently inside the building to a desk and chairs set-up to the right of the door. Helping him sit, she looked at him seriously before turning to Alistair and the Captain. “Is there a small room I can use to sort the crates?” The Captain nodded, so she continued, “Get the men to move the crates to one and I will go take a look. I may need to send over a few mages tomorrow to continue documenting, depending on what I find.”

Alistair peered at Octavian’s face for a minute before nodding and ushering the Captain away. Octavian knelt down beside Dalton.

Dalton spoke, his voice crackled with age, “There is not much you can do My Lady, I am an old man. My wife died years ago and I have out lived all of my children, their children and their children’s children.”

Octavian grasped his face gently and looked into his eyes reading them intently. She smiled with understanding, “You’re waiting till this is over, I can respect that. I can also make it easier for you to do so. While I can’t extent your life as I know that is not what you want. I can help a little.” She waited for his nod and she opened up the channel to her power and she smiled at the look in his eyes and across his face. Her touch moved through him as gentle as a warm spring breeze, healing small aches, easing joint muscles, the small strain in his ankles, the wheezing in his chest. When her touch could find nothing else it could heal it slowly dissipated, leaving behind a lingering sense of peace. She released his face and stood moving back, and watched him stand.

He still used his cane, but she could see him moving easier now and she was touched when he lifted clear eyes, shining with unshed tears, “Thank-you My Lady”

She smiled, “I understand, sir. You have no need to thank me, but if it makes you feel better, I accept and your welcome.”

“My Lady, lets get started.” Dalton moved carefully but with more speed and ease then before. Octavian felt an sense of inner fulfillment at helping one more person. Contented she followed Dalton to the side room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was mostly just filler... sorry as it has nothing to do with in game story


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ****NSFW ****
> 
> This chapter is my first attempt at writing smut, I was unsure if I should include it. You can skip if you feel uncomfortable reading this as it has no plot information at all

**Later that night**

Alistair and Octavian rode into the army encampment after dusk had fallen, Dog at the heels of the horses. They dismounted and left the horses with the stable boys. Side by side they walked through camp not speaking, Dog leaving them in search of his own dinner. Alistair was stiff and sore, and he imagined Octavian was too. It had been a long, tedious day. Both knew it was jus the beginning. He reached out and grasped her hand and smiled as she glanced at him, “You did good work today.” He caught her blush in the torch light. He wonder how far the blush went down. Mentally, he shook his head, and clamped down on his arousal, _now_ was not the time.

            A blush still burning her checks, Octavian looked at him, and blurted before she lost her nerve. “Would you like to join me for dinner?” Octavian held her breath, quite unable to believe this was actually happening. A smile blossomed on her face as he consented. Still side by side they head to her tent. Alistair politely waited for her to light the lanterns inside, and the one hanging on the peg beside the opening.

Alistair entered behind her, his blood humming lightly as he watched her move, a sensual grace, that did nothing to calm him, and almost made him groan out loud. He watched her remove her baldric and jacket and toss both over a chair, then removed her boots. Alistair moved to the table set of to the side and poured drinks from the wine bottle left there and raised the glass to his mouth, he swallowed. Catching the shadows reflected in the fabric of the tent, he realized she was letting down her hair and hissed out a breath.

She froze at hearing him and turned to face him a question filling her eyes before she encountered his hungry, intense gaze and flushed again. She didn’t stop moving though, running her hands through her hair she untangled the locks caught in the braid, before picking up her comb. She glided towards the chair, carefully across the floor of the tent before reaching out and grabbing the glass he had left on the table before raising it to her own lips and drinking it.

As Alistair watch Octavian move, his pulse hasten and his breathing quickened. Daringly, he walked him across the space to stand in front of her. “May I?” He held his hand out for the comb. For several breaths Octavian stared into those hazel eyes, noting that they appeared more green right now. A funny flutter started in her stomach, like a flurry of butterflies had taken up residency. Slowly as if in a dream, she handed him the comb before sitting in the nearest chair.

Alistair wiped his hand on his pants, and swallowed hard, before kneeling down behind her, Alistair carefully drew the comb back through her hair. He became lost in watching her hair dance in the lamp light, listening to her little sighs and moans of pleasure. Moving her hair carefully in his hand, the soft lamp light flickered over the pale, opalescent skin. Its paleness begged to be kissed. Impulsively he slowly leaned in and gently pressed a kiss to the desired spot. Sensually he kissed his way up the side of her neck. Then froze realizing she hadn’t moved, but her breathing had quickened. Lifting his head, he moved in front of Octavian. Capturing her chin in his hand he smiled into her eyes. Alistair drew a sharp breath at the desire he read in them. Dropping the comb, he pulled Tavin in his arms, claiming her lips desperately. Hungrily he invaded her mouth as her lips parted. Her tongue met his as her arms came up to clasp around his neck. Carefully he stood, wanting to feel her full length against his. He groaned his pleasure into her mouth as she rubbed against him, “Easy” He panted against he lips. _If_ she continued, it would be over before it even began. Exchanging scorching kiss for scorching kiss. Alistair boldly ran his hands down the length of her body and gripped her lovely rounded bottom lifting her briefly of the ground to rub against her. Tantalizingly slow Alistair ran a path along her cheek, down along her chin to the sensitive hollow below her ear. Where his mouth flowed, liquid desire followed in it’s wake. “I want you!” Alistair half panted, half groaned in her ear. Grabbing her earlobe he nibbled, than sucked on it.

Moaning, Octavian clung to Alistair. There was a smoldering sensation in the pit of her stomach, and a wetness between her legs. Sensation, after sensation rippled over her. The hunger in Alistair’s voice sent a thrill through her. Pressing hard against him, she quivered with want. Having his hard length press into her belly only made her hungry for more.

Keeping Tavin tight against him, his one hand gripping her ass, Alistair boldly ran his hand over her belly and up. As gently as possible, in his aroused state, he fondled her firm breast, the nipple hard and erect through the breast band. Stroking her through cloth wasn’t enough, he needed to touch bare flesh.

Tavin made a soft mewling sounds as Alistair pulled away. Shame over her reaction warred with embarrassment caused tears of humiliation rim her eyes. She turned to move away, when he grasped her chin. Kissing one eye then the other tasting the her tears.

“Don’t you want this?” Alistair whispered hoarsely.

“Yes”

The whispered, choked word was all Alistair need to hear. Suddenly, his hand seemed all thumbs as he fumbled with the lacing of her shirt. Unheeding he snapped them in his haste.

Octavian’s husky chuckle caused him to look at her, and she stepped away. Lifting the shirt over her head, locking eyes, she unclasped the sheath, carefully letting it full to the floor. Tossing her hair back she slowly unwound the breast-band, letting it fall to the floor.

Alistair groaned out loud and hauled her back into his arms, claiming her mouth again, as he other hand grasped her breast. Twisting the erect nipple between his fingers, causing her to moan and arch against him. Breaking the kiss, he trailed kisses along her chin, down her neck. Dropping to his knees in front of her, he claimed the nipple his hand had been fondling, moving it to the other. Tugging the nipple into his mouth, he sucked it hard.

Octavian cried out at the sensation, and felt her knees give out.

He released her breast reached around her knees to keep her upright, as he moved his mouth to the other breast. Dragging his teeth along the sensitive peak, he leaned back and looked up at her. Drawing in a sharp breath at the expression on her face. Moving his hands around to the front, he paused at the lacing on her pants. Shuddering slightly before carefully undoing the lacing, pulling them down with the smalls.

Tavin reached out her arms, steadying herself on Alistair’s shoulders, feeling a blush travel down her body as she stepped out of her clothes. She looked down through the curtain of hair as she watched him.

He lifted a hungry gaze to her and stood in a fluid motion, picking her up and walking the short space to the bed before laying her down on it. He stepped back, and removed his cloak, keeping his gaze on Octavian. Knelling beside her, he ran a tongue along the instep of her foot. The hissing breaths she made, drove him on, up her calf and along the inside of her thigh he ran the tip of his tongue. Slowly he worked his way back up to claim her mouth, settling against her on the bed. He trailed a callused hand up the same path, pausing at the black curls.

Tavin begged against his mouth and lifted her hips in response. “Please…” Gasping as he complied, head falling back against the pillow as she enjoyed the sensation.

Watching his hand Alistair ran a finger through her curls, enjoying the moisture that clung to his fingers. Slowly he parted her folds before inserting a finger inside. He inhaled, and drew a deep breath, desperately trying to control the lust burning through him as he felt how tight and wet she was. He swung his eyes up to her face, and watched as her eyes slid close as he increased the speed and pressure. Rubbing the heel of his wrist against her clit, enjoying the sounds she made in the back of her throat. Groaning softly he inserted another finger and leaned over and claimed a nipple, rolling it around his tongue. Tavin arched her back and gripped at his head, releasing her nipple he claimed he lips again, suddenly feeling her inner walls tighten and contracted. He flicked out his thumb and rubbed fully against her clit and felt satisfaction roll through him as she arched, swallowing the sound she would have made. Releasing her lips he watched her, feeling the after effects of her climax on his fingers. Gently he removed his hand, and smiled as she looked up at him.

A smile spread across her face, “That was amazing.”

Brushing her hair back, he caught her face in his hand, claiming her lips again as she responded eagerly. They froze as they heard a cough at the tent door. They pulled back as the sound came again. Alistair snarled silently as he stood and made his way to the door. He opened it carefully, making sure that whoever was on the other side wouldn’t see Octavian as he slipped out.

Octavian leaned back on the cot, and caught her breath. She had never felt anything like that before. When she had been just a mage in the circle, the couple of time she had managed to get with Curtis it had been messy and painful. After Kiera had spoken to her of the dangers surrounding an affair while in the Circle, she had stopped seeing him. This was nothing like that! She didn’t even think she had words to describe what had happened. Octavian knew she felt amazing through and through, she stretched relishing the feeling. She sat up, when Alistair ducked back in causing her to freeze as his eyes roved over her skin. She felt goose bumps spread and a blush light her checks but she didn’t cover herself. Licking dry lips she laid back and watch Alistair stalk across the room gazed intense. He knelt by the bed and claimed her mouth urgently before pulling back. “I still want you, but now is not the time. I have to go meet Oliver. He needs me for some reason and insisted I leave tonight.” He kissed her again long and lingering, pulling her tongue into his pull and sucking it gently, releasing it with a sigh he raised his head “Maker knows, I almost think it would be worth it to make him wait.” He leaned in to kiss her again but she stopped him.

“Alistair, you must go. I’ll wait till you get back.” She reached up and caught his check causing him to groan into her hand.

“I’m glad you can wait, I don’t know if I can.” He pulled back with a growl and pressed a kiss to the palm and looked at her.

Octavian smiled softly, “Duty first”

The words, caused him to bow his head “Fine, but first, a taste I think.” He pushed her back on the bed and bent down over her legs. He could hear her protesting but he ignored her as he ran his tongue on the inside of her thigh, before sliding it between her wetness causing her to inhale sharply. Her scent filled Alistair blocking out everything else. Hungrily he lapped at the taste for a few minutes before drawing back to look at her eyes. They were heavy and filled with desire again. He smiled at the look of vexation on her face before claiming her mouth in a searing kiss. Pulling away he stood, Alistair knew if he stayed any longer, it would cause problems.

Octavian gazed at him fondly, “Maker watch over you, Alistair.”

He returned the look and saying before turning and leaving the tent.


	4. Chapter 4

Middle of Parvulis 9:30

Two weeks after starting the investigation into the Traders, Octavian looked on as Oliver spoke with the Captain after Trader Agustin Barton had been escorted from the building. She felt satisfied with the way it had ended. The Senior Enchanter knew the punishment Oliver and the Captain had imposed was appropriate. Having to clean latrine the army was using would be disgusting, but as far as she was concerned, it served the bastard right. She felt Leliana slide up next to her and touch her arm, Octavian glanced at her friend and was surprised to find the look compassion in her eyes.  
“Come” Leliana held her arm, so Octavian knew it was not a choice and followed the red head. They walked towards the inn and the stabling where they left there horses. The horses where already saddled so Octavian suspected this was planned. She didn’t argue, just swung up into the horse and followed Leliana out of the town. They travelled in silence for a while, side by side when Leliana spoke, “I… Oliver wanted me to have this talk with you. I don’t know if I am the right person to do so, but I agreed.” She paused and glanced at the women beside her and caught her eye, noting the confusion in their green depths. She grimaced and then gestured to the side and turned her horse on the path there, pulling him to a halt. She swung down and Octavian copied her.  
“What are you talking about, Lana?” They tied of the reins of the horses to a tree branch and walked to the river bed, both sat watching the water trickle on by, listening to the soft, calming gurgle as it laughed and danced over and around the stones.  
“What is going on between Alistair and you?” Leliana watched the blush spread across the other women face.  
“Why?” Octavian watched a leaf swirl in the water as it passed them, not able to meet Leliana’s hawk like gaze.  
Leliana sighed. “I think I know, and I can understand the appeal. Honestly.”  
“We’ve fooled around some, but we’ve not had full intercourse.” Octavian felt her skin redden and knew she was blushing.  
Chuckling Leliana spoke, “Look, I don’t ask to be nosy, or gossipy as much as I love both. I asked because I’m concerned. You know you can be nothing…” Her voice trailed off at the flash of hurt in the other women’s eyes. Leliana’s eyes widen when she realized what she said. “Shit, Tavin, I didn’t mean it that way. I - I mean it in an Official Position. You may be of noble birth, but because you are a mage, no one would ever accept you. So you would have but one chose really.” Leliana watched the women and noticed her freeze but not speak, Leliana continued, “Could you handle being just his Mistress?”  
Octavian froze at the question and didn’t answer. Her mind flooded with denial. After a moments reflection she realized that Leliana was right.  
They where quite for a long time, listening to the brook sing to them. They both heard the sound of horses riding toward them, seeing who it was (Oliver, and the rest) they rose to their feet and walked back to their horses.  
Before Leliana could mount she found a hand on her elbow and looked into green eyes bright with unshed tears.  
“Thank-you. You’ve given me a lot to think about.”  
Leliana smiled and hugged the women who returned the gestured. That was how the four men found them, hugging and laughing by the river.

 

Rain fell gently against the ceiling of the tent, as the whispers of the army encampment echoed around the two occupants laying together in silence. Octavian’s head lay on Alistair’s chest as he hand ideally ran through her thick black locks.  
“What did you want to do before you found out you where a mage?” Alistair’s voice rumbled deep in his chest causing Tavin to groggily lift her head and blink at him.  
“I honestly don’t remember.” Tavin sat up a thoughtful look on her brow. “I was six when my magic manifested.” She broke off as he drew in a sharp breath and looked down at him with a smile and continued. “My father hid it for two years. I remember I only cared about horses, he was just starting his own breeding farm. I was given the right to name the first stud.” Octavian laughed softly at the memory, “I named him Getty-Go. I was five I think at the time.” She trailed off a smile still hovering around her mouth, “What about you? What did you want to be before you joined the Wardens?”  
Alistair grimaced, “I was training to be a Templar, when Duncan found me. I was desperately unhappy. I completed in a Tourney to honor the Gray Warden’s and Duncan recruited me. I was happy to leave, this life is much better suited to me. I just wished Oliver hadn't decided to make me King.” He frowned as he finished speaking, watching as Octavian stood up and looked down at him. He shivered as her eyes slid over him, and he knew she wasn’t really looking at him, it more like through him.  
Tavin blinked back to awareness, “I thought Templar’s needed Lyrium to work their abilities?”  
Sighing Alistair sat up, “I hadn’t finished and taken my vows so I wasn’t given Lyrium. You don’t get Lyrium until your vows have been said. As for Lyrium, we don’t need it to work our abilities, it enhances them.””  
Comprehension filled her green eyes as she looked at him, shivering in the cool air blowing under the tent door.  
Standing Alistair grabbed the blanket at the end of the bed, crossing the room her encircled her in the warmth and gently smiled at her. “  
Looking up at him, Tavin smiled. “Oh. I guess I never thought of it much. I never meet any of the Templar trainees, and apparently that was something that couldn’t be found in the libraries.”  
Holding the women close, Alistair leaned down and kissed her nose. Causing her to wrinkle it at him. Lowering his voice, he whispered in her ear. “I can think of better things to talk about then Templar’s and trainees.”  
Laughing huskily, Tavin leaned into his embrace and stretched up on her toes. “Me too.” She whispered before there lips meet.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please Note that this is an attempted Rape scene ~ Read with caution if this is a trigger

**First of Frumentum 9:30**

 

Octavian paused in the act of picking Elfroot from the river bank. Catching sight of an opening in the giant rock formation across from her, she looked in and saw Blood Lotus and Spindleweed growing in the clearing on the other side. Tavin glanced in the direction Zevran and Sten had gone with Dog, and knew she should follow them. But the call of the herbs was too much. Carefully she stepped on to the rocks and made her across the river. She stepped down into the water when she got to the entrance and carefully waded her way through the knee high water, watching her head on the stone above. She leaned over, gently slipping her dagger between the plant stem and the roots slicing it off, before blotting the end with a pinch of Healing Power, before placing it in her bag. She moved on, collecting all the plants in the area. Ten in total, before she turned and carefully made her way back. She stopped just before leaving as a glint of something caught the corner of her eye. Octavian turned brushing back a wisp of hair that had fallen from the braid back, peering into the shadowed glade, trying to figure out just what lay there. Stepping carefully through the water, and up on to the dry land there she cautiously made her way to the object. To her horror a white bleached skull lay, grinning at the sky. Beside it was some sort of haversack. She grabbed the pack, then looked around but saw nothing else. She rose to her feet, clenching the heavy bag to her chest, hoping she made it back across the brook before the rotting material gave way.

Once there she gingerly set the bag down, then cautiously opened the bag. Inside she found two books of poetry written in Orlesian, a few potions passed their prime, a few empty vials, a few bags full of money. At the bottom she found a wrapped bundle, unwinding the band she opened the rotting cloth and felt her breath catch. Staring down at the daggers she realized they where Dragon Bone, then felt the magic from them tingle along her skin. They shone a deep ebony and caught the sunlight casting reflections onto the water. She reached out a hand and traced a finger along the geometric engravings etched into the blades, knowing that they were placed with magic.

Lost in the beauty of the blades she failed to hear the approach of someone behind her. Pain exploded in her head as something smashed into it. She fell forward, her face slapped against the ground, She heard and felt the snap in her nose as blood gushed out. Pain danced behind her eyes. She was conscious enough to be thankful she didn’t fall on the daggers she was holding. Desperately she tried gathering her bearings as she fought losing consciousness. She felt the someone standing above her and then her hair was grabbed roughly and her head was pulled back. Hearing the panting excitement in the voice behind her. Octavian didn’t think, she acted, she gripped one of the daggers she’d just found and brought it against her belly, the person holding her adjusted his grip and that was all she needed. She snapped her head back and cracked into his and felt his nose snap. He let go grabbing his own nose. Tavin twisted out of his way, grabbing the other dragger in the other hand while kicking out at him at the same time. She caught him in the knee and he crashed to the ground. Again she used her own momentum to flip her body up and kicked out with the other leg. Which caught him again in the nose.

He howled in pain. Gasping for breath. Tears ran down his face as he stared up at from the ground her in horror, he hadn’t been expecting her to fight back. 

Octavian stood looking at him and reached up and tugged her nose while sending a blast of Healing to the appendage, her eyes closed briefly at the sensation. Opening her eyes again, she realized the man was no longer looking at her in horror, but in delight. An evil smile chilled his face and filled his cold eyes. She didn’t understand until pain slammed into the back of her head, causing her to scream. An invisible hand grabbed her throat cutting of the sounds, sending what felt like bolts of razor like shards of pain down her back. It froze feet to the ground. A flash of panic raced through her. The intense pain cause d her stomach to rebel. Desperately, Tavin fought the urge to vomit. She WANTED to but a paralysis web enclosed her. She was unable to move, never mind get sick. There was a burning sensation in her skin, as if she had laid in the sun naked for far to long. She shivered in reaction to the foreign power sliding through her cutting off her gift, She could have wept at the loss of feeling her magic flowing through her. A sensation she had for as long as she could remember. It was gone. JUST GONE. To her horror, Octavian realized that he was a run away templar. The very thing Oliver had warned her about.

Slowly the Ex-Templar stood and looked down at her and grinnedly as he read the realization in her eyes.

The Templar stalked towards her, licking his lips in anticipation. The man paused just in front of her and reached out a hand to brush away some of the hair that had fallen from her braid. He trailed his hand slowly down her chest catching sight of the daggers still held in her hand and smirked. Deciding to let her continue holding them, as he harshly fondle one breast, then the other. He glanced into her eyes before leaning in and jerked in surprise as pain flared in his back and then his side.

 

Startled he stared with wide eyes unable to speak or move himself. The women he _thought_ was under his control, broke loose and drove one of the daggers into his side. Octavian slowly straightened and spat in his face. Reaching up with the other dagger Octavian dragged it across his throat. He slowly crumpled to the ground and was still, . the dagger still in his side, and an arrow sticking from his back.

Zevran paused in the clearing bow and arrow still notched as he considered the scene before lowering his bow. Dog rushed onto the bank hackles raised. He moved forward slowly and watched the color bleed from Octavian’s face before she dropped the dagger and clapped a hand to her mouth and bolted for the bushes. Zevran dropped his bow and went to her, holding her gently and keeping the hair out of her face as she lost the contents of her stomach and cried. After purging her stomach, Octavian leaned against the elf, hiccupping softly, while silent tears poured down her pale face. A smile crooked her lips as Zevran pulled a clothe from a pocked and hand it to her. Accepting the clothe she blew her nose, then used a corned to dabbed a the tears that would not stop falling.

“Let’s get you back to camp.” Zevran said as he helped her stand, she swayed unsteadily, then fell against him. He caught her as she crumpled. He picked her up and moved to the side of the river and set her down out of view of the body, “Give me a moment.”

At her nod, the elf turned and head back towards the body. He grabbed the daggers, wiping them on the clothing of the ex-templar before shoving them into his belt. He gave a shrill piercing whistle and waited until he heard it echo back at him before he turned and headed back to where he had left Octavian. Zevran picked her up carefully and avoided stepping on Dog, who seemed to be glued to her side. Zevran shivered as she pressed her face against his neck. The tears touching his skin seemed to scald. Each one increased his guilt for leaving her behind. The broken ‘thank-you’ brought some measure of comfort. Slowly the tears dried, when she pressed a little harder against his neck , a smile warmed his eyes. He wasn’t sure who was giving who more comfort. Him giving her comfort, or _her_ giving _him_ comfort. He felt grateful she was alive, yet still slightly guilty, when she touched his chest and whispered hoarsely, “It wasn’t you fault, it was my own.” Zevran glanced at her briefly and shivered at the thought of “what if?” He didn’t say anything as she leaned her head against his the hollow of his shoulder and allowed him to carry her back.


	6. Chapter 6

Octavian woke to a sweet song being sung by Leliana who was sitting by her bed, gently patting her face with a damp cloth infused with mint and ginger. Tavin noted the smell as one of her own creations. “I take it I kept getting sick.”

Leliana broke of singing in surprise, but nodded. She was going to speak when they both heard yelling and screaming coming from the outside. Immediately they both scrambled for the tent door. Octavian grabbed the blanked she had been under wrapping it around her. She stumbled slightly as her stomach heaved. She forced it down as Leliana caught her, preventing her from falling. They exited the tent to hear flesh, slapping flesh and the _thump_ of a body hitting the ground. Oliver was restraining Alistair, who was shouting angrily at him and gesturing wildly to Zevran laying on the ground. Wynne was bending over the elf and healing the gash on his face. Everyone froze as the pair of them stumbled from the tent into the clearing. Alistair broke away from Oliver and made his way over to Octavian side. He reached out and gently picked her up, taking her from the hold Leliana had on her. “You shouldn’t be up” He scolded quietly.

Leliana rolled her eyes and snorted at him, “As if anyone could sleep through your temper tantrum.” She snorted at him.

Octavian looked at Oliver but couldn’t read the exact expression in his eyes. Looking up at Alistair she spoke softly “Put me down please.”

Alistair looked like he was going to protest, but complied.

“Zevran is not to be blamed for what happened, or almost happened.” Although Octavian’s voice rasped slightly and was not much louder than a whisper, it seemed much louder in the sudden quite. “I was foolish. It _was_ and _IS_ my own fault.” She reached up a hand and covered Alistair’s mouth as he opened it, “I mean it, it’s not fair of you to blame him for my mistake.” She swallowed and winced at the soreness in her throat, but waiting for his small nod of argument. Stretching up, Octavian and kissed his check, “Thank-you.” She turned to Zevran and Wynne, “Zev, I meant what I said early. Don’t blame yourself. It was my fault.” The guilt and sadness she saw in her eyes made her repeat herself. “ Zevran, I mean it, it was my fault. I got cocky. I knocked him down and healed my nose.” She watched his eyes widen in understanding and heard someone inhale sharply. It sounds like Wynee, but Tavin couldn’t be sure. Those watching stared at them in confusion. It annoyed her that Alistair didn’t understand. “He Silenced me.” Octavian spoke flatly and watched comprehension dawn on their faces. Alistair looked slightly sick now, but he relaxed slightly as she turned back to him. Octavian leaned into him giving and taking the comfort he offered in return, before she glanced back at Zevran, “Thank-you.” She mouthed at him before catching Wynne’s eye, “Could you heal my throat, and check the rest of me over. Please. It will be a couple of days till my power comes back completely.” Wynne smiled and walked towards her, gesturing to the tent. Alistair picked her up and carried her inside. Octavian didn’t have the heart to argue.

 

Later that night, Alistair lay beside Octavian, holding her as she slept. He felt like a fool. He knew he own Zevran an apology. He tighten his grip briefly before easing out of the bed. Gently tucked the blankets up around her shoulder. He smiled as she curled into the warmth he left behind. Bending Alistair tugged his boots on and grabbed his cloak, and carefully eased by the tent door, trying not to let all the cold in. Pausing by the door, he let his eye adjust to the gloom and found Zevran by the fire, gently cleaning a pair of daggers.

The elf paused in his task as Alistair moved across the space and sat across from him.

“I’m sorry. I over reacted.” Alistair spoke hastily, wondering if it might be to late for the apology. He meet the elf’s gaze and was confused to find a touch of bitterness there.

“Don’t be Alistair, I would have reacted the same if I had been in your shoes.” Zevran held his eyes for a long moment before going back to cleaning the daggers, and rewrapping the grips. Letting Alistair try and understand the meaning behind his words.

“You desire her too.” Alistair spoke almost accusingly before stopping at the look of disgust on Zevran’s face.

“Fenedhis, don’t be an ass.” Zevran stood, gathered his stuff and stalked to his tent, pausing he turned “What _I_ want, has nothing to do with it. She made her choice and I respect that. You, I’m not sure of yet.” Ducking his blond head, the elf enter his tent leaving Alistair sitting there a little dumbfounded.

Finally, Alistair stood and made his way back to the tent he shared with Octavian.

 

When Alistair awoke, he woke to a cold bed, no Octavian beside him. He sat up in a rush and looked around the tent. Dirty cloths from yesterday littered the floor, but no weapons. Which means she had left at some point. He frowned. Swinging his legs over the side of the cot he grabbed his clothes and pulled them on, trying to think of where she might be. He grabbed his sword and shield strapped them on and left the tent. Outside, Alistair looked up at the sky and realized it was only mid-morning and not as late as he feared. He glanced at Oliver’s tent. Ignoring the call of duty, he turned and headed for the Healing Tents set up in the center of encampment. Reaching the main tent, he hesitated outside upon hearing Octavian’s excited voice drift outside, “Oh, What have you done to them, they’re beautiful, Zev??”

Alistair heard the murmur of Zevran’s voice, but only caught the words “…Sandal helped”.

Alistair gritted his teeth but didn’t move. Guilt flashed through him, as he spied on them. Leaning down he looked around the edge flap. He caught sight of Octavian moving from behind the desk and flinging herself at Zevran who caught her and cradled her gently against his length.

“ _Emma Serannas, Falon_.” Octavian looked up at Zevran with a smile.

He chuckled, then tensed as he felt eyes on them. He didn’t turn around having a good idea who it was, instead he spoke, “You learn fast, my friend.” His brown eyes filled with warmth as he looked down at Octavian. The elf frowned slightly when she drew back from him eyes wide. Zevran cursed himself silently as he realized she could read more in his eyes then he expected and smiled gently, “ _Ma Vhenan_ , you have no need to worry. Promise me though, if you ever need any help.” He paused catching her gaze, and purposely lowered his voice, “If you need _any_ help, come to me.”

Octavian looked at him with a small frown, but nodded. Zevran accepted that. He leaned down and kissed her on the forehead before turning towards the tent door, “You can come in Alistair.” He felt Octavian start, not realizing they had been watched and he glanced at her face only to find her growing angry as Alistair entered his face beet red. “I’ll leave you two alone.” Zevran nodded at Alistair and flashed a smile at Tavin before exiting the tent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation
> 
> Emma (EM-mah): I am.   
> Serannas (SEHR-ah-nahs): grateful, appreciative.  
> Ma vhenan (ma ve-nan): My heart (a term of endearment).


	7. Chapter 7

**Cassus 9:30**

Octavian idly stroked the Mabari’s head as she leaned back against the log in front of the fire, staring absently into the flames. Dusk was falling but she didn’t notice, instead she was watching the flames dance and twist. They matched her emotions perfectly. She listened to the gentle hum of activity from the army. Alistair had left for the week with Oliver, Morrigan, and Oghren on some sort of mission.

Tavin was still thinking of their morning conversation when she felt a hand rest on her shoulder causing her to jump. Startled she pulled eyes away from the fire, she found a cup of ale pushed into her hands by a grinning Leliana.

“Missing your handsome king?” The red head teased, sitting down beside Octavian. The Bard laughed outright at the blush staining Octavian’s face.

            “No… I… Makers Breath, I don’t know.” Tavin sipped her ale, gazing back into the fire lost in thought.

Leliana brow wrinkled slightly, “Do you wish to talk?”

Octavian glanced at her friend. The thought startled her. But that was exactly what Leliana was, a friend. There must have been an expression of surprise in her eyes that caused Leliana’s green eyes to widen in shock, “What?”

Laughing, Octavian brushed back her black hair “I just realized you’re my friend. I’ve never had one…” She lowered her eyes, as her voice trailed off briefly “Growing up, from what I remember my parents didn’t like me playing with other children. They keep me pretty isolated.” She smiled as Leliana started. Reaching out with a free hand, Octavian placed it on Leliana’s arm. Hastily, she sought to reassure her companion. “No, not like that. I was NEVER alone. I was alsway with mama or pa often both of them.” A bitter smiled twisted her lips. “It was almost like they had to keep me to themselves, and couldn’t share me with anyone, Not even another child.” Octavian shook her head as if to shake of the memories they were often bittersweet. It had been a time of fun. A time of love. A time of innocence. A precious time fore her world changed forever. When Leliana delicately cleared her throat. Octavian drew a shuddering breath and continued. “In the circle, I learned very quickly it was safer for myself not to make friends. Sometimes those friends didn’t come back, or they turned on you…” Raising green eyes Octavian meet the stunned look on Leliana’s face. “It’s a nice feeling, knowing I have a friend.” Tavin closed her eyes as she drank the bitter ale, then opened them to stare into the dancing flames once again.

Leliana reached out a hand and lightly touched the Healer’s hand, “Tavin, I’m not the only friend you have. There’s Oliver, Zevran, Wynne, Alistair…” She broke off at the astonishment on Tavin’s face, followed by the shake of black hair.

“I guess I never looked at it that way. It’s an odd feeling finding out you have friends you didn’t realize you had.” She looked at Leliana seriously, “As for Alistair? I’m not sure if I can count him as a friend…” Biting her lip she debated on whether or not she should say anything. But decided she had to trust at least _one_ person in her life. She spoke gazing at the fire, “Alistair scares me.” She heard Leliana gasp and realized what she said and what it implied, “NO! Not like that” She rushed to explain, “He, he’s talking about the future like it’s perfect, and I know it’s not. After you talked to me that day on the river. I realized, you where right, I _don’t_ want that life. I want more. I want more then to be a mistress. I need to be more, I may always belong to the Chantry and the Circle, but I still want more then being a rich and powerful man’s mistress.” She didn’t realize how bitter she had started to sound until Leliana’s hand reached out and caught her chin turning it to meet her eyes, “I understand Tavin.” Smiling at each other they lapsed into silence.

The sky darkened and Leliana stood and picked up another log tossing it onto the fire. Sitting back she watched the sparkles fly skyward. She jumped slightly when Octavian spoke harshly. “How do you get over killing someone?”

Leliana thought a long time, “I don’t know if you do” She blinked trying to find the words needed, “Sometimes it boils down to the one fact. Them or me. I choose ‘me’ every time, and pray afterwards for forgiveness.” She watched Octavian process what she said and breathed a sigh of relief as Octavian grinned and stood.

“Thank-you, my friend,” Octavian leaned down and reached out a hand to pull Leliana to her feet who complied with a puzzled look, “I’ve got better stuff in the tent, let’s go there where it is more comfortable and drink there.”

Leliana laughed but followed the other women, “You?” Disbelief coloring her voice.

Tavin flashed her a sly grin, “Alistair’s” They reached the tent and Tavin bowed the red haired women, her first friend inside.


	8. Chapter 8

**Verimensis 9:31**

Octavian stumbled through the carnage of the battle field using her seldom used staff for balance. Blood and gore coated her body, blank eyes swept from body to body in disbelief and denial. So many dead. Treading carefully around blackened corpses, she knelt down next to a unburned body that still showed some life. She swallowed stiffly before reaching out and touching his forehead. Pain overwhelmed her momentarily before she blocked it. Gently she sent a surge of magic into him healing the worst of the injures before rising and nodding to two of the soldier’s who followed her. Their job was _not_ to guard, but to remove those the Senior Enchanter made note of, back to Medical Ward. She moved on, stopping at each body checking to see who she could help. She healed everyone she could. The ones she couldn’t heal, she ‘helped’ them move on. There was no point in letting anyone linger painfully. Octavian realized that there was someone standing to the side. It took a few minutes for it to dawn that, it was a blood splattered Zevran. He stood waiting and she paled as he walked towards her, face serious. Barely daring to breath Octavian opened parched lips, “Who?”

            The Assassin sighed and passed her a water skin before taking her elbow, “It’s Oliver.” Zevran stated. His normally calm voice, hard enough that it lost it’s melodic tone. “He killed the Arch Demon but was stabbed multiple times in the stomach and Wynne can’t stop the bleeding.”

            Suddenly gasping for air Octavian halted in mid-step leaning on her staff, unable to even speak through the rising panic she felt.

Zevran saw the shock in her eyes and felt terrible for her. But they needed her now! He raised a hand an struck her across the face, sharply.

Octavian cried out as a hand caught her check with enough force to snap her head to the side. Tears of pain and shock sprang to her eyes. The world narrowed to a pair of brown eyes, desperation of there own glittered in their depths.

“Snap out of it, you’re needed! Breath!” Zevran ordered pleased that she complied. Breathing in and out, each time he commanded

Once she calmed down she looked at him, “lead me to him.” What had been meant to be a forceful command, came out as a dry, pitiful croak.       

Zevran looked her in the eye and felt himself calm at the self awareness in her eyes again. Grasping her elbow he lead her towards the Healing Ward and the tent holding Oliver.

Reaching the tent Octavian slowed to a stop and broke from Zevran’s hold, holding a hand up to ward him back, “Give me a moment. Go find Trish, Nova, and Brandon. They should be near the main healing tent, tell them I need my bag. It’s multiple chest and abdomen wounds. They’ll know what else I need.”

Ignoring her outstretched hand the elf caught her in a hard, fast hug, _“Ma Nuvenin, ma vhenan.”_ Releasing her, Zevran turned and quickly strode away.

Octavian closed her eyes and breathed deeply. Reaching out with her mind, she sent a spark of magic into her staff and waited for the pressure to build before allowing it to flow back into her, filling her completely. She opened her eyes, and breathed deeply once more then headed to the tent opening. Nodding at Sten who stood on guard outside she pushed back the flap. The overwhelming stench of blood slammed into her, causing her to gasp. She saw Wynne leaning over the cot, hands glowing as she tried healing the bloody mess of the man laying flat. Alistair stood to the side, an arm around his own stomach, watching pain clearly etched on his face. She didn’t see Leliana or Morrigan in the tent, but didn’t ask. She moved to stand beside Wynne and look down and through the man laying there, breathing labored. Resting a hand on Wynne’s shoulder she broke the other women’s concentration. “Let me.” She nodded at Alistair to help the older women move and took her place.

Kneeling by Oliver’s side she grabbed the dirk at her side and eased it under his clothing, with a quick jerk, it tore open, revealing his abdomen and the blood seeping from the wounds. Closing her eyes, she opened herself to his pain and let it draw her in.

 Alistair watched the women kneeling at the side of his friend. He blinked and shivered in surprise as her face went blank. It was as if she was frozen in time. The only indication he had that she wasn’t was the steady rise and fall of her chest and the glowing in her hands. A commotion at the tent door drew his attention away. His lips thinned as Zevran ushered in three mages, each carrying something. They set there burdens down and moved about the tent. The blond women with blue eyes went to stand at Octavian’s side, while the brown haired man set brilliant balls of light into the air of the tent illuminating the entire area. It was a bright as a summer day, and suddenly just as warm. Then, the man stood behind Octavian, his hands a breath from her shoulders. Alistair frowned in confusion. It wasn’t Octavian that needed healing, but Oliver. Before he could open his mouth and show his ignorance he felt a powerful rush of magic flood from the man and into Octavian leaving him speechless. Alistair watched the last mage. She moved stiffly and slowly, but set up a table on the other side of Octavian’s. There she set up bandages, needle, silk thread, sharpened knife. On the back row, she set potions and masses of leaves. Finally, she then knelt down on the opposite side of Oliver and copied Octavian’s pose. Octavian opened her eyes and blinked as the rush of power flooded into her. She glance back and smiled at the man as he relax his pose, but didn’t move. Octavian nodded to the blond haired women on the other side of the table, and accepted the knife passed to her.

Alistair blinked as they moved in concert, none speaking. It was phenomenal to watch as each mage moved in sync with the others. It was as if they knew on some deeper level what was needed. Slowly time passed. Alistair and Wynne waited in silence, but at one point Wynne leaned in closer to Alistair and whispered awe flavoring her voice, “She’ll save him. I’m not sure exactly where she learned to do this, but it’s working. She’s doing far more then I did.”

Alistair nodded, but didn’t stop watching. For the first time since he had left the Chantry, he pray.

 

 

Just before dawn Octavian sat back and slowly stretched her back, wincing slightly as it protested moving. She was grateful for the assistance in standing and smiled at the man, “Thanks-you. That was well done.” Nodding at her, the three of them moved about the tent cleaning up. Octavian turned to Alistair and Wynne, “He’ll be fine. Sore for a few days. But fine. He’s sleeping peaceful….” She broke off as she heard the irate voice of Leliana on the other side of the tent door, and moved towards it. Opening it she saw a blood splattered Leliana glaring at Sten, before the two could say anything Octavian spoke, “Lana” Hearing her name Leliana snapped her head to Octavian, shock registering her features at the bloody women in front of her, her face crumpled as her worst fear slammed into her. Octavian must have seen it because she continued, “He’s fine, Lana. He’s sleeping.” The relief in the air was so strong one could taste it. Tavin smile for the first time since the start of the battle at the joyous expression on Leliana’s face at the words.

Octavian moved to allow her entry, but Leliana stopped and hugged the women to her tight, regardless of the blood and whispered, “Thanks Sister.”

Giving Leliana a tired smile she watch the women enter the tent. As Alistair came out, Octavian took his hand and yawned. “Okay, Let’s get you healed.” Lacing her fingers through his, she lead the way back to there tent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations
> 
> Ma nuvenin (mah noo-VEY-nihn): As you wish.[12]   
> Ma vhenan (ma ve-nan): My heart (a term of endearment).


	9. Chapter 9

**End of Verimensis 9:31**

            Standing in the middle of the bedroom, Octavian looked around taking in the richness of the room she had been given upon there ‘official’ arrival in Denerim. They had stayed camped outside the city for weeks, as the inner city needed to be cleaned and repairs made to much of the city after the battle. Disposing of the dead had taken weeks.

Plush carpets lined the floor, covering the cold stone. Tapestries lined the whitewashed walls adding further warmth to the room. The doors on either side of the huge bed let to the dressing room, and a washing room connected together. The door she had just entered lead back to the sitting room. A fire place lined one wall, and adjacent to it were windows and a door leading to a balcony.

A knock sounded on the outdoor. Before Octavian could utter a word, it was opened. A trail of maids carrying buckets of water and a an assortment of clothing strode boldly in. The lead maid bobbed a curtsy. “I’m Nellie, Senior Enchanter. A bath is being drawn for you.”

Relief flooded through Octavian, dispelling the anger at their intrusion as she followed the line of maids to the washing room. Disrobing she settled back in to the hot water, it was as hot as one could wish for. Closing her eyes Tavin, listening the them gossip. After Nellie had washed her hair and added extra hot water, she dismissed all the maids. Laying back in the liquid warmth, Octavian thought on the gossip she had heard from the gaggle of maid. They had gossiped about everything and anything when their attempts at getting the her to answer their questions proved futile. Octavain sighed as there was another knock at the outer door. It was loud enough that it echoed into where Octavian lay, trying hard to relax. Releasing another heavy sigh, she rose and grabbed the robe left for her use. Quickly pulling it on she belted it around her slim waist as she snatched one of her dagger and stalked to the main door and yanked it opened. Tavin blinked in surprise at Leliana’s grinning face. Automatically, Octavian backed up and gestured to for the women to enter. She flushed slightly at the pointed look the dagger in her hand received. “What? Zev would be proud of me”

            Leliana laughed and held up her hands showing her own hidden daggers, “I know. At least I’m more subtle”

            Glaring good naturally, Octavian lead the way into her bedroom. Carelessly, she tossed her dagger on the bed. Grabbing the decanter from the bedside table she filled two cups with wine.

            Leliana watched Octavian move, noting instantly the ease in which she did, but also reading the nervousness she tried hiding in her vivid green eyes. “Any news?”

            Octavian shook her head, “No. Alistair said he wouldn’t say anything until after tomorrow.” She swallowed, “I… Lana I don’t know what to do. I don’t want to hurt him, but I can’t live this life he wants.” She waved her hand around in an helpless gesture, “I don’t want to deal with the politics of this position. I think I’d almost prefer to go back to Ostwick, then try and deal with all of this.” She swallowed bitterly at the thought and raised the glass to erase the taste from her mouth, “I’m trapped…” She trailed off helplessly and looked around the room. “I’m trapped and I don’t know how to get out…” Octavian looked out the window, and breathed in the cool air coming from the open door. “I could handle being his mistress and not minding when he had to marry, _if_ I loved him. But I don’t, not like that. Someday I want to believe I will find that one love. I know I’ll never do that stuck here…” Gazing out over the city, Tavin knew in her mind that she would never find what she wanted. Her startled gaze flew to Leliana’s as the red haired women tugged at her hand and lead her to a chair.

“Sit, and listen.” Leliana sat across from the ravened hair women and held her green eyes, “You have become the sister I never had, and never thought I wanted after Marjolaine’s betrayal. You’ve never judge my belief in the maker, or told me I was wrong. You’ve always been honest with me. You’ve trusted me.” Leliana paused a moment and took out a small bag from the inside of her jacket and placed it on her lap. “You saved Oliver when I didn’t even know he was injured. You’ve become one of the strongest people I know, adjusting to the army way of life after a lifetime spent inside the Circle.” Leliana captured Octavian’s eyes with an intensity that sent shivers running though Octavian, “I’m giving you the choice to choose. I can’t tell you what to do. You can stay and become Alistair’s mistress, knowing full well that is all you will ever be.” Leliana paused deliberately, before calmly stating, “Or you can become Grand Enchanter, as Alistair has hinted at.” She smiled slightly at the look of shock in Octavian’s eyes, but continued, “You can go back to Ostwick if you really want, or…” she handed the small bag to Octavian and sat back watching the other women.

            Octavian looked at the small bag. Confusion written on her face and burned in her eyes. She opened her mouth to speak, but Leliana just gestured to the bag. Bowing her black head Octavian worked gently at the knot as Leliana’s eye flutter shut. Tension radiating from the Bard that Octavian couldn’t explain. Finally after what seemed an internally long time the knot came undone and she pulled it open and dumped the object inside into her hand. Her gasp of surprise turned to a strangled sob that caught in her throat. In disbelief Octavian stared at the small vial in her hand. The vial started glowing slowly in reaction to her own blood heating it, while sending a sparkle of warmth though her skin. Octavian couldn’t speak and gazed at Leliana as tears fell down her face, and was surprised to find the same tears on Leliana’s face.

“I’ve come to know you as a friend and sister, and you are by far a better person then I could ever hope to be. I want you to become as free as I am.” Leliana’ words hung in the air as Octavian smiled and rose to her feet and rushed and caught the other women in a fierce hug her phylactery clutched tightly in her left hand.

 

****

 

            Octavian was lead through the corridors of the palace, and tucked back her black hair nervously. The servant halted at a set of massive doors and bowed leaving her there alone. Turning to the doors, Octavian drew a deep breath and knocked, smoothing her dress as she waited, suddenly wishing she was wearing her leathers and the dress that had been provided. Another servant opened the door and bowed her in, before exiting the room. Octavian entered and found Alistair standing across the room staring at her, she keep her eyes bowed and curtsied low.

He growled as he crossed the room, taking possession of her hand he helped her rise, “Don’t do that.”

            Octavian raised an eyebrow, “As you wish, Your Majesty.” He frowned, and she softened as she gazed at his annoyance..

            He cleared his throat and reached out to cup her face and raised her to kiss her lips gently. Instantly he noticed how she froze but didn’t move. He lifted his head and caught her eyes and sighed, “I take it I’m not going to like your decision.” Stepping back he clasped his hands behind his back and held her gaze, “I have decided too…”

            Octavian stepped forward and placed her fingers over his lips, “Alistair, I can’t. I won’t be your mistress. Nor will I accept the Grand Enchanter’s position.” She watched his eyebrow rise in surprise at her knowledge but sighed.

            “Why?” He turned to gaze at the fire.

            Octavian moved to stand beside him, “I appreciate the honesty in which your offer was made. But I want more Alistair! I want to find love, something I will never do if I become your whore.” She raised her hand as he moved to speak, “It’s what I would be. How I would feel! It’s what others both think and say! I am your whore even if I am treated like a queen. No matter what title you offer me, to everyone else, I would still be a common whore, and I believe I would come to resent that, and come to hate you.” She drew a deep breath. “To much has happened between all of us to allow that to happen.” She spoke sadly but firmly gazing at the fire again.

            “I want to marry you…” Alistair turned to face her, and watched the surprise marking her face, followed by bitterness.

            “Alistair, you _can’t_ marry me. King you might be, but you can’t get the people to accept me as Queen. _I’m_ a mage, I’ll _always_ be a mage. If you tried marrying me, you’d end up dead. I can’t allow you to do that. You…, you need to find someone who can help you rule, and you can learn to love. You don’t love me, and you deserve someone to love you in return.” Turning to him, she faced him squarely meeting his hazel eyes, and noted the sadness in them. Reaching out she cupped his face in her hand, “I thank-you for the honor you want to address to me, but I won’t accept.” She blinked back the tears she refused to let fall, then meet his gaze directly. “I can not marry you. I may not love you the way you want. But I do care. I will not be responsible for allowing you to throw away what you hope to accomplishment just because you think it will make it better.”

            Alistair closed his eyes breaking contact with Octavian’s gaze and sighed in defeat, “I kind of expected this. Both Oliver and Leliana warned me you would say no. I guess, I was hoping to prove them wrong. You’re right though. I’m glad for the time we had, you’re the first women I’d ever spent the night with Octavian Trevelyan, and I wanted you to be the last. I knew it wasn’t possible though. It was wishful thinking and a matter of comfort.” He opened his eyes and caught her look of surprise and chuckle low, as he reached up and caressed her check, “Stay the night, one last time?”

            She smiled up at him, and swung her head in a negative, “I can’t Alistair, it wouldn’t be fair to either of us. Keep the memories you have and implement the plans and ideas you have. Most of all be happy.” Rising to her toe-tips she brushed a brief kiss across his lips before pulling away. Curtsy low she locked eyes with, “Maker Watch over you and guide your steps, _King_ Alistair.” She stood and walked quickly to the door before changing her mind, she paused, and looked over her should, “I hope we meet again.” Not waiting for a reply, Octavian wiped the tears on her cheek away with her sleeve. Opening the door, she slipped through leaving him standing by the fire staring into the flames.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the end of the first part - Second part should be up soon


End file.
